Family Comes First
by Providentia67
Summary: During a normal world meeting there a slight change in the seating arrangement. Not something to freak out over right? Wrong. America is not happy about being displaced and Scotland makes it clear that he doesn't really care since it was his spot first, and he's not willing to give it up again to anyone. England was his brother first and foremost, not America's.
1. America

Family Comes First

America walked into the meeting hall late, nothing new there, but what was new was the surprising lack of open seating where the world power normally took his place near a certain English nation. Most of the rest of the world, after turning their attention momentarily at America's obnoxious entrance, went back to their own personal conversations and didn't seem to register the same alarm that America was feeling. Where was his seat? Or more specifically, seeing as the chair itself was still there, who was the guy who had the audacity to sit in the hero's spot? Alfred had no clue?

Speaking of which, the adjacent seat where England normally sat was also empty. Where was England? Oh well, he supposed it didn't really matter, Arthur would show up soon, his notes were already spread out neatly on the table before his empty chair so he was clearly somewhere in the building. France, who sat to England's other side, was present and seated and was discussing something with Prussia and Spain who were standing nearby. He didn't seem to think anything of the person sitting in America's chair either. The hell?

It might have seemed a simple thing, where a nation sat during a world meeting, but in truth it meant a lot. Who you sat next to during the world conferences was a sign of who you were closest to, who you trusted, and who meant the most to one another. England always, and by that Alfred meant _always_ sat between America and France. Canada sat on France's other side, and surprisingly enough Ireland sat on America's other side. He was still Arthur's brother after all. Germany always sat next to North Italy and Japan. These were things that never changed over the decades. To have some guy sitting in Alfred's chair... well that meant someone was closer to England than him! And yet no one seemed to be batting an eye.

The normally cheery superpower felt something akin to rage slowly begin to build. Whoever this was sitting there and conversing with Ireland like it was nothing was about to learn a lesson. Alfred's bright blue eyes darkened the slightest bit and his grin turned malicious as he stalked up behind what he considered his usurper. Forcing on a cheery exposition , Alfred placed a hand down on the man's shoulder to announce his presence. The nation's conversation with Ireland ceased, and a head of blood red hair turned to face America with familiar green eyes. A thick red brow rose as the pale-faced nation eyed the American. "Problem?" he asked irritably with some strange variation of a British accent.

"Hahaha" America gave a strained laugh and tightened the grip his hand had on the other's shoulder enough that it would cause Germany to flinch, but the man acted as if he didn't even feel it. Alfred's fake grin finally dropped. "You're in my seat dude" he stated coldly. The odd steel in the American's voice caught the attention of the other nations in the room, and all present grew strangely silent, eager to observe the events taking place. The red head's disinterested look turned to a wicked grin at the admission.

"Oh really?" he asked, quickly flipping the chair around so that he could cross his arms and lean down on the wooden back to face the angry American.

"Yeah."

"And what makes you think that?" America noticed how Ireland was wearing a grin to match the other's and was eyeing Alfred like a piece of meat about to be carved up.

"Because he's my brother" Alfred stared silently while the other nation dug into the back pocket of his blue uniform with two crossed white straps and withdrew a cigarette, which Ireland was quick to light for the other, before taking a slow drag and blowing the dark smoke in Alfred's face, causing him to grimace.

"Bullshit" he finally said and Alfred's eye twitched.

"Excuse me?" The tension in the room was so palpable that any nations currently standing were at this point backed up against the walls of the meeting room while those already seated were too frightened to move.

"Albion has three brothers and you aren't one of them" the other leaned even more against the back of the chair and America cursed himself for taking a step back.

"Oh and you are!" Three simultaneous facepalms could be heard somewhere to America's right and left; those belonging to Ireland, France, and Canada. All of which knew exactly who this nation was and knew that it was not a good idea for America to pick a fight with him. Said nation along with Ireland looked momentarily dumbfounded by the young nation's ignorance.

"Oh aye" the redhead stood to his feet and threw the spent cigarette to the ground before grounding it out with the heel of his black military boots. The action left black burn marks in the carpeting, but no one was going to complain. Alfred was surprised to find the other to be just the slightest bit taller than himself as they stood eye to eye. "The name's Scotland you ignorant brat." America blinked in realization. Scotland, he was England's oldest brother. One of the ones who's fault it was that Arthur had never liked him calling the other 'big brother' when he was just a colony. And that realization only deepened America's desire to reclaim his seat from him.

Alfred crossed his arms. "In that case you're definitely in the wrong spot. I might not have met you before, but I've heard enough to know that I'm more of a brother to England than you've ever been." It was a bold statement, but one America was confident enough making. Scotland didn't take the bait, but Ireland turned red with anger and jumped to his feet, knocking his own chair over in the process. America readied for the ginger to attack him, but Patrick Kirkland was stopped when Scotland lifted his arm to cut the other off.

"Relax Éire, no need to dirty your own hands over this. The brat's not even worth it" Scotland's eerie calm was unsettling for all present. Scotland was a hot head and everyone knew it, yet for some reason he was showing restraint.

"Why you" the American seethed.

"Let's make something clear" Scotland stepped forward until he and America were just inches apart. "I am and will always be Arthur's brother. You..." he gave the other a quick once over with his eyes with an unimpressed expression. "You are nothing but an upstart who calls himself a hero when he hasn't seen half the shit everyone else in this room has. Albion may have had his ups and downs with me and our other siblings but we have been there for each other long before you were even some drunk explorer's pipe dream." Scotland stepped back and propped a foot on the argued over chair and rested his arm over the bent knee. "I might have let you fill in my spot while I've been too busy to bother attending these stupid meetings, but it is _mine_ nonetheless. Your spot is over there with _your_ brother." Scotland pointed to the vacant seat to Canada's right.

"Who?" America tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"CANADA! Your brother you idiot!" It was surprising how this was the thing to upset Scotland the most of everything America had said so far but the redhead was quick to recompose himself with a deep breath.

"And if I disagree?" the young nation challenged, balling his hands into tight fists.

"Blood is thicker than water."

"And I wonder just how much was spilled between you two" Alfred spit back.

"Don't play innocent America. Let me remind you that between the two of us you were the last to go to war against my little brother. Not once, but twice." America flinched back at that.

"Hey it was me who came and saved all of you at the end of WWII. If it wasn't for me you might not even be here!"

"Oh you mean when you waited years to get involved? When you sat there observing as my brother writhed in agony during the Blitz!? Who was it who sat by his bedside and held his hand then huh? I'll tell you, it was me."

"I wanted to help! My boss wouldn't let me!" America was shouting at the top of his lungs at this point. The other nations who were watching the confrontation kept flickering their gazes between the two arguing and the open doorway. Wondering where the hell England was and if someone should go and fetch him before the two volatile countries came to blows and demolished the whole place.

"Doesn't matter. Fact is, that as much as you might want to, you will _never_ replace me."

"Maybe we should ask England what he thinks?" There was very little America was able to retort with. All the things Scotland was saying was true, but there was one more thing he could try. "I bet he'll pick me." Scotland glared darkly and Ireland was fuming.

"Amerique, perhaps that is enough" France finally decided to try and step it. Unfortunately, it was far too late.

"Stay out of this France" he ordered, not looking away from the older Brit for a second.

"Albion will always choose me." Scotland stated with utmost confidence, standing at his tallest and looking down his nose at the American. Alfred snapped. Not even really thinking he sent a punch flying into Scotland's face and the British nation flew back against the meeting table and fell to the floor, wiping the red liquid from his now bloodied cheek. But even as the Scot was in pain he had the look of victory. Ireland made to lunge at America but again Scotland stopped him for the second time. "This is between him and me Patrick."

Scotland rose to his feet once again but didn't move to attack. His indifference angered the American. He was so angry, he needed to fight the other. Did Scotland think him so insignificant he wasn't even worth defending himself against? Well this next punch would fix that. Alfred drew his arm back and swung, only to then hit a completely different target.

A flash of gold hair and a dark green uniform appeared in front of America's fist and then suddenly it was England flying back into Scotland's awaiting arms, bent over and wheezing at the blow to his gut. "E-England!" America stumbled back in shock and horror of what he had done. How had England gotten between him and Scotland? He hadn't even been in the room! The Englishman didn't answer though, still trying to recover his breath while Scotland rubbed his back in comforting circles.

"Are you alright wee Albion?" Arthur nodded to the other and after a few more moments straightened up and stepped forward, refusing the helping hands his two older brothers were offering in favor of standing protectively between America and Scotland.

"Arthur I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! It was Scotland he-" Alfred tried to explain while taking a step towards the Brit but was cut off by the sound of the safety clicking off of Arthur's handgun which he kept on him at all times like many nations did.

"Not another step United States" England threatened coldly, the gun raised level with America's chest. All the color drained from Alfred's face at the image before him. England was pointing a gun at him. _England_ was pointing a gun at him and looked like he had every intention of shooting him if he made one wrong move. This was nothing like the last time, there was no doubt in his eyes.

"Are you going to shoot me England?" America questioned nervously, while still trying to maintain some air of confidence.

"If you raise another hand against my siblings then yes" came the unwavering response.

"B-But why? Why defend him? You two have tried to kill each other in the past!" America's voice had risen to hysterical levels. To observers the poor boy looked like he was about to cry. But for once that had no effect on the older Brit.

"He's my brother." England stated matter of factly. "Any wars between us will never change that, and I would do anything to defend him."

"So-so that means you..."

"Yes America, Scotland was right. I will always put my family first." America backed down and England lowered his weapon, the deadly expression fading. Just as Arthur finished his statement Scotland came up behind him and wrapped the shorter man into a hug, resting his chin in England's messy blonde hair. America felt sick watching the other smirk at him out of England's view. So he had planned it. He must have known England was about to show up and wanted Alfred to make himself out as the villain. That bastard.

"Aww thanks brother. You still didn't have to do that though, I can defend myself" Scotland untangled himself from England and the two turned to face each other. Matching microscopic smiles on their faces. America was well and completely forgotten as the two conversed

"You shouldn't tease the poor boy you know" England chided.

"But he's just as much fun to tease as you!" the redhead laughed and tousled England's hair only to have the offending hand shoved away and a pout blossom on Arthur's face.

"Alistair Kirkland sit down and let me fix that god awful bruise you've earned yourself" England pointed to the empty chair next to his own.

"Yes mum" Scotland plopped himself down with a cheeky smile and relaxed into his reclaimed seat while England bristled.

"I'm not your mum" he grumbled.

"Look like her though."

"Oi!"

America turned away sadly and trudged over to where Canada was sitting and reluctantly took his place next to him. He ignored the comforting hand Matthew placed on his shoulder in favor of watching the two UK brothers. Ireland had joined in on their talk and their conversation had devolved from English to Old English to Gaelic and now Alfred had no idea what was being said anymore. It was not for him to hear anyways. Privileges of blood and all that. The young nation's heart sank. It would never really be his place to have that close of a relationship with Arthur so for now he would settle for observing. He didn't trust Scotland's sudden interest in being close with England. If he tried to hurt Arthur, Alfred promised himself, he would kill him.


	2. Scotland

Scotland knew what he was getting into the minute he decided to go to the world meeting. He hadn't been to one in years, decades even, but something had come to his attention that required his immediate action. Apparently, according to Ireland, someone had permanently taken the seat that rightfully belonged to him. That brat America. Patrick had called him complaining about the young nation's ridiculous ideas and how lucky Alistair was that he didn't have to listen to them every month. When Scotland asked why he sat so close to the American if he annoyed him, Ireland had said it was because the blonde sat between him and England. That made Scotland's eye twitch in annoyance.

"How long has he been sitting there?" Scotland growled out.

"Practically ever since he started attending. It's not like you are ever there and the seat remains empty otherwise. The kid probably doesn't even know it's your spot" Ireland could probably sense Scotland's growing anger but wisely said nothing to it.

"Is that so?" Silence ran between the two nations as Scotland immediately tucked his cellphone between his shoulder and ear so that he could start packing a suitcase.

"Should I be expecting you tomorrow at the meeting then Alistair?" Scotland could hear the mischievous smile Ireland was surely wearing on the other side of the call.

"Damn right. It looks like someone needs a reminder of who the blood brothers are" Scotland threw in a few extra pairs of clothes and paperwork before shutting the suitcase and grabbing his car keys.

"I'll meet you there Alba."

The meeting was being held at Ireland's place so the Alistair didn't need to go far. England had already left but if Scotland left immediately he could still probably make it in time to beat the American to the meeting place. So a dangerously fast car ride to the airport and a long, tense flight later Scotland was throwing his luggage into Ireland's car and the two brothers were on their way to the meeting room where the nations would begin arriving soon. Scotland was tired and exhausted from his nonstop travel that had started the day before, but his quick nap on the plane would be enough to get him through what was coming, or at least he hoped.

"Your tense" Ireland observed as he drove steadily along the road. Scotland said nothing but grunted to indicate that he had heard the other while looking worriedly out the window. "Does it really bother you that much that he sits there every time?" Patrick asked curiously. The Irishman could hear the fabric of Scotland's gloves stretch as the redhead clenched his fists tightly.

"I didn't realize... that they had gotten that close" Scotland admitted a little shamefully.

"I wouldn't say they're that close. Good friends, that's all, no matter what France says about sexual tension". Ireland cursed under his breath when the words slipped out. He hadn't meant to mention that little comment France had made and it looked like because of it Scotland was ready to commit murder. A dark blue aura of anger was already suffocating him slightly within the confines of the car.

"What were you saying about tension?" Scotland asked with grit teeth.

"Nothing" Ireland was quick to respond with a nervous smile.

"That's what I thought" and Scotland went back to glaring holes outside the window.

The rest of the drive passed in silence and once they arrived at the meeting place the two Brits made their way up to the designated room to find that many nations had already arrived. While Ireland was the host, Germany pretty much always ran the actual meeting so instead Patrick and Alistair went to find their seats. To Scotland's relief, his (could he still call it his?) was still empty. England was sitting in his own seat, and setting out his notes for the conference neatly before him. Alistair gulped, would Arthur tell him to move if he sat down next to him? According to Ireland America had been sitting their for a long time. The Scot felt a pat on his back and a grinning Ireland gestured towards the table.

"Relax, it'll be fine" he assured the other. The two walked up to the empty chairs and plopped themselves down, Scotland between Ireland and England and waited for the blonde to take notice. Alistair let a mask of confidence and indifference slip on to his face. It wouldn't do for Arthur to know how nervous he was for the younger's reaction. At hearing someone sit down beside him England turned only to have his eyes widen a little when it was not America sitting there, but Scotland. Alistair waited with baited breath.

"Oh Scotland, this is a surprise. I'm glad you're finally taking an interest in these meetings again, it gets tiring doing all this work for you lot you know? I hope you brought your paperwork with you, if not I can go make copies of the ones I brought with me." After getting over his initial shock England settled back comfortably into his chair and started organizing his notes again, not batting an eye at Scotland's position, it made the older man's heart warm a bit.

"You don't have to worry your pretty little head I've got my paperwork" Scotland grinned and retrieved a stack of papers he had last minute remembered to toss in with his clothes as he was leaving his home.

"If you were going to come you should have told me and we could have left together you know" England chided softly, a small smile on his face. Scotland returned the affection, not used to having such a civil conversation with England but glad for it nonetheless.

"It was kind of a last minute thing" the Scot admitted, scratching the back of his head and averting his gaze. His heart sank a little as Arthur sighed in disappointment.

"Well I guess the important thing is that you came. Let's head back together though okay? I don't want you imposing on Patrick more than necessary." Alistair smirked and ruffled both his brothers' hair. Ireland and England both fumed a little and tried to fix their mussed hair.

"Aw relax Artie, we're brother's aren't we? What's a little squatting between family huh?" England rolled his eyes, but the smile returned to his face and that was enough.

The three sat next to one another catching up a bit, well England and Scotland catching up with Ireland more like since the two lived with each other along with Wales and Northern Ireland. They chatted for a while until "Oh bollocks" England cursed.

"What is it?" Ireland asked.

"I forgot a few more documents in my hotel room I need to go get them before the meeting starts." England ran a hand through his messy blonde hair and sighed in annoyance.

"The meeting is supposed to start in five minutes you know" as host Ireland knew the start and end times for the meeting.

"Its fine, America isn't here yet so we can't start. I'll be back soon so behave you two" England gave a quick wave and walked out of the meeting room and headed for the elevator that lead to the part of the building that served as a hotel. Scotland watched his brother leave and then leaned back in his chair, feeling quite pleased with himself. That was, until a certain Frog decided to speak.

"Oh Écosse I didn't know you were coming today" he remarked with a smile that made it seem like he had something up his sleeve.

"I can come if I want France. I don't see how it's any of your business." Scotland glared at the Frenchman, not pleased that the other was ruining his good mood. The other simply raised his hands in a surrendering manner and Scotland rolled his eyes.

"True enough, but I worry about where you're sitting mon ami. Amerique may not be pleased." Scotland's glare returned in full force along with a slight growl that made the other flinch back a bit.

"Why should I give a damn about what the brat wants. This is my seat, always has been, always will be. America can piss off for all I care" the redhead barked out. To his other side, Ireland was matching Scotland's glare and nodding slightly along with his brother's words.

"Ah I don't mean to cause trouble. I only say this because America claims to be Angleterre's brother, he has never sat anywhere else. He thinks that position is his, not like anyone has ever said anything to discourage him." France turned his back to the angry brothers and began a conversation with the remaining two-thirds of the Bad Touch Trio while sending Scotland a sidelong glance.

"Ignore him Alba, France is an idiot." Ireland soothed, but Scotland had already sunk back into his inner musings. France, as much as he hated to admit it, had a point. Apparently America had been usurping his spot beside England for ages and he had never done anything up to this point to stop him. Sure Arthur had seemed glad to see him here and hadn't said anything about where he had chosen to sit, but would that change if America fought him for it?

Scotland pushed his disheartening thoughts out of his mind and instead chatted lightly with Ireland for a while until the double doors to the meeting room stationed behind where he sat burst open dramatically. Both brothers tensed. There was only one nation obnoxious enough to force that much attention on himself for just entering a room. "Meiriceá" Ireland growled. He wanted this to go well for Scotland. He, like the rest of his siblings, never really liked England's former colony to begin with and would be happy to see him displaced from England's side.

Alistair remained still, focusing on securing his calm facade so that when he and America had their inevitable confrontation he could keep from attacking the other. He would win no points with England for beating up his former colony, world power or not. Scotland could sense the other's eyes on him right up until the hand came down on his shoulder. Taking a breath he turned to face America with a face trained for centuries to hide any emotions he didn't want exposed. He lifted a brow and inquired, quite calmly if he did say so himself, if the other had a problem.

America laughed with an off tone and his grip tightened on Scotland. Alistair could tell that the skin would definitely be bruised later but didn't let himself show weakness. Wow, the brat meant business and he wasn't wasting any time was he. Luckily for the elder of the two though, America was not nearly as good at composing himself as Scotland. "You're in my seat dude" the statement was made with a silent demand for the other to move and Scotland didn't appreciate that at all. So instead he let himself sink into his normal confidence. He flipped his chair and then sat back against it with arms crossed. The picture of complete ease.

"Oh really" a pleased smile was etched onto Alistair's face at seeing the other's anger boiling over.

"Yeah" Scotland bristled at the young nation's feeling of entitlement. Oh yeah, this kid was going down.

"And what makes you think that?"

"Because he's my brother." Scotland felt his insides run cold, though his face remained as stone. Did America not know who he was? Yeah he had never formally met the young country face to face, but to not even recognize him as one of England's blood siblings? For a moment he couldn't move, then instinctively reached back and retrieved a cigarette from his back pocket. It was an old habit, harmless to nations like himself but he had focused on stopping now that it was generally frowned upon. But still, Scotland couldn't help but smoke whenever he got too stressed, it help him calm down and compose himself. He sent a grateful look to Ireland under the oblivious American's radar, for noticing his distress and lighting the cigarette for him. If he had tried to do it himself the other would have definitely noticed his hands shaking.

After calming his nerves, Scotland blew smoke in the American's face to momentarily distract the other while he blinked away the stinging sensation behind his eyes. No, America would not replace him. He wouldn't allow it.

"Bullshit" he spit out at the younger. Every ounce of venom he could muster soaked into that one word.

"Excuse me?" as usual the nation ever ignorant of the atmosphere around him didn't notice just how much he was pushing the Scot.

"Albion has three brothers and you aren't one of them." Alistair chose to use Arthur's older name as a way of reminding America of his larger history with England but it went unnoticed. Scotland leaned further back in his chair to avoid launching himself at the other and was satisfied when the brat took a step back. Score one for the Scots.

"Oh and you are!" Now, Scotland wasn't actually angry at this statement. No, in fact he was too far in shock from the sheer stupidity of the nation before him to even register the insult in not being recognized. That shock turned to slight amusement, and Scotland then used that to propel himself to his feet and initiate the next phase of this confrontation. He wasn't going to take this sitting down. Literally.

"Oh aye" he stood and threw his cigarette to the ground. Grinding it under his boot heel and imagining fondly that it was America's face. He felt even better when he realized that, while the American was certainly tall, he was just the slightest bit taller. "The name's Scotland you ignorant brat." Oh there were so many more things Scotland wanted to call him, but just in case England walked in held back the insults on his tongue.

Alistair wondered at America's odd expression after hearing his name. There was recognition there, definitely. So America had heard of him, but instead of realizing his place and backing down, the American instead seemed to grow more resolved.

America crossed his arms. "In that case you're definitely in the wrong spot. I might not have met you before, but I've heard enough to know that I'm more of a brother to England than you've ever been." Again Alistair froze, his hard expression in place but he could tell Ireland noticed the intense flash of pain in his green eyes. Patrick made to lunge at the cocky upstart bastard but Scotland raised his arm to block his brother's path. Grateful at the gesture but knowing that following through with it would not help prove America wrong. No, he would show this kid that Arthur wasn't the only Kirkland who could settle things with words. America was clearly far worse at controlling himself so Scotland would let him destroy himself.

"Relax Éire, no need to dirty your own hands over this. The brat's not even worth it" Scotland's knew his eerie calm was unsettling for all present. Scotland was a hot head and everyone knew it, yet for some reason he was showing restraint. Then again it was a good reason, and one Arthur's devious pirate side would be proud of. It had been used many times on Scotland after all, which made him an expert.

"Why you" if possible steam would be coming from America's ears.

"Let's make something clear" Scotland stepped forward until he and America were just inches apart. "I am and will always be Arthur's brother. You..." he gave the other a quick once over with his eyes with an unimpressed expression. What did France think his brother saw in him? Sure the guy was well built and handsome but so were most nations. Even if his brother swung that way (which he most certainly did not. Scotland saw him staring at Ukraine's... anyway) there is no way he would fall for his own adoptive brother. But that was beside the point. Sexual tension his ass, France was just an idiot.

"You are nothing but an upstart who calls himself a hero when he hasn't seen half the shit everyone else in this room has. Albion may have had his ups and downs with me and our other siblings but we have been there for each other long before you were even some drunk explorer's pipe dream." Scotland stepped back and propped a foot on the argued over chair and rested his arm over the bent knee. "I might have let you fill in my spot while I've been too busy to bother attending these stupid meetings, but it is mine nonetheless. Your spot is over there with your brother." Scotland pointed to the vacant seat to Canada's right. He felt bad about dragging his favorite of Arthur's colonies into this, but he felt the need to point out how America was disregarding his own brother to edge in on Scotland's. How would he feel if Scotland started trying to be more of a brother to Matthew than America was?

"Who?" no recognition whatsoever passed over America's face at the mention of his own kin. That broke Scotland a little.

"CANADA! Your brother you idiot!" are brothers really that easy to forget? Was that why Arthur had been okay with America taking his seat all this time? Had he simply forgotten that it was Scotland's?

"And if I disagree?" America's continuation of the conversation snapped Alistair out of his depressing thoughts, remembering a phrase he thought oddly fitting.

"Blood is thicker than water" he said solemnly.

"And I wonder just how much was spilled between you two." Ouch, below the belt there. But two could play at that game.

"Don't play innocent America. Let me remind you that between the two of us you were the last to go to war against my little brother. Not once, but twice." America flinched back at that and Scotland felt himself avenged.

"Hey it was me who came and saved all of you at the end of WWII. If it wasn't for me you might not even be here!" If he had been in less control of his facial expressions Scotland would have rolled his eyes. Always with the 'I saved your ass' shtick; could he think of nothing better?

"Oh you mean when you waited years to get involved? When you sat there observing as my brother writhed in agony during the Blitz!? Who was it who sat by his bedside and held his hand then huh? I'll tell you, it was me." Alistair inwardly grimaced at the reminder of those horrible nights he could do nothing but stay with his brother and try to help him endure the pain. America hadn't been there. He hadn't seen. Beside him Scotland could feel Ireland tense at the memory as well.

"I wanted to help! My boss wouldn't let me!" Had that stopped Ireland from coming over? No. It hadn't.

"Doesn't matter" at this point Scotland decided to get right down to the heart of the argument, choosing to ignore the nervous glances nations were sending towards the doorway. He could tell England was coming. The same magic flowed in each of the UK siblings' blood and it called to one another. Arthur was coming. "Fact is, as much as you might want to, you will never replace me." And Scotland chose to let himself believe that.

"Maybe we should ask England what he thinks? I bet he'll pick me." Scotland glared darkly. It was a desperate move, but an effective one. Scotland's history with England was long, but America's was recent and had been on the rise.

"Amerique, perhaps that is enough." For some reason it was at this point that France decided to try and step in to stop the continued argument. Scotland suspected it had something to do with the fact that England had just turned the corner and now had full view of what was going on because of the open door. Not that he could hear though. And of course America had no idea.

"Stay out of this France" he bit out, not even bothering to even turn and face Francis to say it.

Seeing his brother wave at him from down the hall, desired documents in hand, brought confidence to Scotland to make his final move. "Albion will always choose me" he said, using his full height to stare down at the American. And to his pleasure he saw something inside the young nation snap. _Checkmate_. And Scotland got punched. Alistair was sent reeling back into the conference table and fell to the ground. Damn America hit hard, but again with Scotland's centuries of fighting experience, was nothing he couldn't handle.

Ireland though, became defensive and moved to fight America, so to prevent him from getting involved Scotland called him off again. Besides, he had seen the flash of worry in England's eyes as he watched his former colony strike his brother, and he knew he had won. He was running towards them now.

Scotland watched America draw his arm back again and prepared to take another blow, and by the looks of him, this one was going to be even harder. But the strike never came. And instead Alistair had to be quick to catch his youngest brother who had just taken the hit for him.

Scotland worked hard to reign in his anger after watching his brother be struck in full force by the world power. He hadn't known that England would jump between him and America and it made him internally wince. He wouldn't show any weakness to the American though, this was a war they were having. A war to claim the spot at England's side, and even as he tried to pass himself off as confident in his victory he was still quite unsure. Somewhere in front of him Alistair heard America call England's name.

"Are you alright wee Albion?" he asked with concern, Arthur was still breathing hard even as Alistair was rubbing circles on his back to comfort him. But England wasn't one to show weakness either and nodded before trying to stand. Alistair and Patrick each offered a hand to help their brother up but he just waved them off and took up a defensive stance between America and Scotland a fiercely protective glare on his face.

America started babbling some sort of apology. Scotland heard his name and knew that the other was trying to blame the confrontation on him. For a second Alistair worried that England would take America's side, he always did when the young nation used that kicked puppy look, but not this time. This time, as soon as America stepped forward he was met with the barrel of a gun and a murderous England.

Yeah, of all the Kirklands, Arthur was by far the most protective of his siblings. Scotland had the extreme pleasure of having been there when France had tried to hit on Gwen, otherwise known as Northern Ireland; that had been fun. And it looked like America was just realizing that now. "Not another step United States."

"Are you going to shoot me England?" the poor brat looked like he was trying desperately to maintain some image of confidence but Scotland could tell that inside he was breaking.

"If you raise another hand against my siblings then yes" Alistair felt his heart swell with pride.

"B-But why? Why defend him? You two have tried to kill each other in the past!"

"He's my brother. Any wars between us will never change that, and I would do anything to defend him."

"So-so that means you..."

"Yes America, Scotland was right. I will always put my family first." If Scotland was anywhere, and he meant anywhere else, he probably would have let the relieved tears spill. So instead the redhead settled for wrapping his younger brother into a tight hug and let his head rest in England's softer-than-it-looks hair, enjoying the scent of mint, tea, and roses that always accompanied the shorter nation. He smirked at the American. Alistair could tell that England could read what he was doing but the fact that he didn't stop him from gloating meant something. _'I might not like that you two are arguing over me. But you seem like you need this so I won't stop you'_. That was the unspoken message England sent him and Scotland was grateful, and tightened his hug ever so slightly before letting go.

"Aww thanks brother. You still didn't have to do that though, I can defend myself" Scotland gave the other a cheeky smile.

"You shouldn't tease the poor boy you know" England returned the smile while keeping a slightly scolding tone that reminded the other of a parent chastising a child.

"But he's just as much fun to tease as you!" the redhead laughed and tousled England's hair only to have his hand shoved away and a cute pout blossom on Arthur's face.

"Alistair Kirkland sit down and let me fix that god awful bruise you've earned yourself" England pointed to the empty chair next to his own. Scotland's chair.

"Yes mum"

"I'm not your mum"

"Look like her though."

"Oi!"

Scotland laughed and plopped himself down on his chair beside England and stayed still as the other began to fuss over the split skin on his cheek. For a minute neither said anything, but when England did speak, it was in a mix of Old English and Gaelic. A language only the Kirkland siblings could easily speak in and understand. "Honestly, picking a fight like school children. I know you could have blocked his hit by the way. Why didn't you?" Scotland looked momentarily into Arthur's curious green eyes and then glanced down.

"You know I don't hold back. I guess I was worried you would get angry if I did." England just looked confused at this.

"Since when do you care if I'm angry with you? We fight constantly at home."

"The man was worried he was being replaced by Meiriceá" Ireland interjected when Arthur still didn't seem to understand where Alistair was coming from. Said redhead sent his Irish brother a thankful look as England's eyes widened in realization. Arthur's face sobered into a look that was both happy and sad and the Brit lifted a hand and poked his older brother on the forehead roughly, causing Scotland to cross his eyes to look at the assaulting appendage.

"Oh Alba, you really think anyone could replace you?" England gave him an affectionate smile.

"Well... you seemed fine letting him take my place while I was gone" Scotland reminded, absentmindedly picking at the fabric of the chair. By the shocked look Arthur sent, the younger nation finally seemed to understand where the other was coming from.

"Its just a chair Alba" Alistair felt Arthur take his hand firmly.

"You know damn well its not just a chair. It means something to everyone here."

"Only because we let it. To me it's just a chair." Scotland still was not convinced. If he hadn't come today, if he didn't come to the next meeting. Then America would sit here. America would go to lunch with England during the break, follow him home when it was over and annoy him, they would beat up France together, discuss their problems together, all the things he should have been doing with Alistair.

Arthur seemed to pick up the dark thoughts his brother was harboring and decided things had to be made clear once and for all. England released his brothers hand and instead trapped Scotland's face between his hands, turning him to look directly at his younger brother. "What is your name?" England questioned seriously.

"Scotland" England shook his head at Alistair's misunderstanding.

"Your human name. The one you chose."

"Alistair Kirkland." England nodded.

"That's right. Kirkland. And I am Arthur Kirkland. Ireland is Patrick Kirkland. We are brothers, and we chose our human names to reflect that irrefutably. Nothing will ever replace you in that."

"Then what was with calling America your little brother? Aren't you essentially making him your brother too?"

"No. Maybe once, he could have been. But Alfred made his choice too. He took the name Jones when he became independent because he wanted to make it clear that he was not my younger brother anymore. He might want to change that now, but that choice still stands." Scotland pondered that for a moment. He guessed it made sense. His human name, something relatively recent for the nations to come up with and an extremely personal one. Scotland would never call America by his human name. And Ireland, even though he was no longer part of the UK, had kept the name Kirkland to show they were still a family.

"You still care though."

"Of course, but to me it's more of a close friendship than anything else."

"I see." he gave a sly smile. "Like a 'Special Relationship'?" Alistair gave Arthur a suggestive wink to which the Englishman rolled his eyes and smacked Scotland's arm.

"Don't you start. I get enough of that rubbish from France."

Alistair snorted along with Patrick, and even Arthur chuckled a little. "Sorry, couldn't resist."

Both brothers turned to face the table. "Family will always come first to me Scotland. And if it means that much to you, then I won't let anyone but you sit here. That place at my side has been and always will be yours after all. America doesn't understand that yet, but someday he will. And maybe then he'll start remembering Canada more, the poor lad."

Scotland smiled and threw his arms around his two brothers, waiting for the meeting to start. Yes, family does come first.


End file.
